


A Gesture of Grace

by just_ann_now



Category: Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
Genre: Book Based, Character Study, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 23:09:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_ann_now/pseuds/just_ann_now
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>And what if no one believes this truth?</i><br/>Someone already has.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gesture of Grace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lollard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lollard/gifts).



> Other than the first two lines, this is more firmly rooted in the bookverse than the movieverse.

_And what if no one believes this truth?_

Someone already has.

__~*~_ _

_To provide a context, could you please recall your earliest memories?_

You know that that 'context' is not necessary. I am an Archivist, as well as you. I understand that what you require most critically is my testimony, from the day I interviewed Sonmi~451 up to the day of my own arrest. 

_That is correct. Would you begin, then, with, oh, what you did immediately after Sonmi~451 was escorted from your office?_

I would be pleased to. As you know, there are archiving and indexing tasks to be performed when entering a record into the Archive. Once entered, it cannot be altered or deleted. No, let me correct myself – it can only be altered or deleted by the highest-level xecs at the Ministry. Certainly not by an eighth-stratum xpedience such as myself. 

_Did you feel a need to alter or delete her testimony?_

Not at that point. I was deeply shocked at some of the things she had told me, and wondered about the accessibility of the record to future archivists. 

_Did you diji a copy to your own sony?_

Yes, I did; this is a standard procedure. We are 'encouraged' to work from home if necessary; in actuality, this means that we are enabled and expected to perform work tasks anywhere, at any time. 

_Tell me what you did upon leaving your workplace for the day._

I had planned to meet with friends, but I felt drained, exhausted. I had no desire to go clubbing, as was our custom, and the thought of dinery food, the smell of it, turned my stomach. I went directly home and prepared a simple meal for myself. 

While I worked, I tried not to think of Sonmi~451's testimony. The accusations she had made against Unanimity seemed impossible, too bizarre to be true. To try to relax I put on some favorite music, an early twentieth century piece, the _Cloud Atlas Sinfonie._ Do you know it? 

_I'm sorry, I do not. My musical tastes, I'm afraid, are not very -_

I understand. My friends think me odd because I have little interest in the shrill techno-racket they enjoy. The _Sinfonie_ , though - music of such surpassing loveliness that it makes my heart ache with loneliness and longing. I have tried to find more works by the composer, Robert Frobisher, but there is only this single piece, a whispered shadow, the thoughts and dreams and yearnings of a mind long dead. 

_You have a poet's soul, Archivist_. 

Or a helpless romantic's.

_How did you spend the rest of your evening?_

Sadly, the music could not distract me for long. My mind kept returning to the testimony. Surely, in her desperation she had misinterpreted the events. The idea of Unity in collusion with Unanimity; that her manipulation, capture, and trial were political theatre, designed to promote hostility and suspicion towards fabricants, horrified me. I simply could not believe it was true. But some of the points she had raised – why were there no aged fabricants? Where were the fabricant retirement communities? - continued to trouble me. 

_So you re-watched the disney of the testimony._

Yes, several times. I consulted maps to confirm some of the details – the route they had driven across the Suanbo Plain, through the Sobaeksan Mountains and on to Pusan. It seemed, at the time, a purely intellectual exercise. After several hours I gave it up and went to bed. 

_You slept well?_

I slept hardly at all. Normally, when I cannot sleep, a bit of Soap – do not look shocked, Archivist; you have been a student yourself - but after what she had told me, no, I could not. I poured every bit of it that I had down the drain, and vomited afterwards. 

In the morning, I felt empty. I showered, dressed, drank a cup of starbuck, headed to work. But instead of turning my ford onto the xpressway, I found myself headed down Thruway One towards the East Gate One. 

_You retraced their route._

I did. At that point, it still seemed like idle curiosity. It was not until I stopped in the mountains, as they had, that I realized I had made a decision. 

_Tell me about it_. 

I set my tomtom with the landmarks she'd described – the statue of Prophet Malthus, the Ch'ungju – Taegu xpressway overpass. I kept scanning the mountain ridges, searching for the weathered Siddhartha. I finally saw, something: a cross-legged giant, his hand extended, as she had said, in a gesture of grace. 

I abandoned my ford, as they had, and set out on foot towards where I thought the abbey might be. How to describe the greenness? The fragrance of the air, the rising sap of the birch and alder trees? The softness of leaf mould under my feet? And birds! Their chirruping filled the air. One long, lovely trill, as poignant in its way as a passage from the _Sinfonie_ – the first time I had ever heard actual birdsong. 

_I envy you. What did you find when you reached the abbey?_

A welcome, though a hesitant one. The abbess, she whose gentle wisdom had been such a comfort to Sonmi~451, had passed away in the winter, and the number of colonists had diminished. Only a handful were left, mostly greybeards, a few children. There was one young man, near to my own age, a Technic who maintained the solars and turbine, as well as sharpened knives and cleaned garden tools. It was he who gave me a tour of the complex, and invited me to admire his greatest treasure. 

_Which was...._

An old-style consol sony. "Slow and clumsy, but it works! So old-fashioned that no one uses it but people like us." It was oddly touching, to see his pride in such archaic technology. He spent some time showing me how it worked, and even let me try dijing a vlog of my own. 

Afterwards, we passed an hour in joyless sex. While he writhed and groaned above me, I thought about the consol sony, and realized what I must do. 

When we returned to the communal gathering room, a greybeard was telling a story about a dragon and the dwarves who sought to steal his gold. _We must away, 'ere break of day_ , he sang softly, to wide-eyed listeners, and when his tale was done I was handed a bedroll, pointed at the dorm tunnel, and bid good night. When I awoke the next morning, I was completely alone. 

_They abandoned you? For what reason? ___

As to that, I cannot say. Perhaps my arrival demonstrated that their colony was not as secret as they had continued to hope. What training, what discipline, for them to depart in utter silence! Only a tiger-striped tabby remained to keep me company. They had left me food, tea, dried meats and fruits, and the solars and turbines were still functioning, so my physical needs were met, for the moment. I had solitude to implement the plan I had devised the nite before. 

_Which was..._

To disseminate Sonmi~451's testimony using the archaic technology available to me in this abandoned recidivist colony. 

_An ambitious goal._

But successful, in at least some measure, or I would not be charged with treason, would I not?  
You must understand. I did not leave my home that last morning intending to become a radical activist. I felt confused, bruised, battered, as if the foundations of all I believed had been ripped out from under me. Yet as I drove, with only the quiet strains of the sinfonie accompanying me, my mind sorted these questions subconsciously. The abuse and slavery of the fabricants, the structure of purebred society as mindless consumerism in support of the greedy Juche – all these "blasphemies" that Sonmi~451 had described in her Catechisms were true. 

My purpose as an Archivist is the preservation of Truth. And I had no doubt that the truth of Sonmi~451's testimony would be suppressed by the corpocracy. I could not allow that. 

_Please explain exactly how you used the archaic technology._

It was not accomplished easily. Under the Technic's direction I had diji'd a practice vlog, but I knew that Sonmi~451's testimony, in her own words, would be infinitely more effective than my own. So I had to devise a means to diji the file from my sony to the consol for transmission. Fortunately, after a bit of searching I found rough instructions on the web on how to accomplish this. 

_How fortuitous._

Yes, I was amazed at the wealth of knowledge that had been diji'd, stored, abandoned as consumers became more narrowly focused, more insular in their interests. Once targeted advertising was perfected, there was little need to wander and search the web. Every bit of information a consumer could ever want could be diji'd directly to their handsony, with purchase links embedded and enabled. 

I practiced carefully. When I was ready, I initiated the protocol, looked into the webcam, took a deep breath, and began, “I am the Archivist. I wish to share with you today the testimony, the words and deeds of Sonmi~451." Once I completed the upload, I knew that my fate was sealed. 

_What happened afterward?_

The next morning I saw with surprise that the disney had been viewed 14 times, and shared twice.  
By the following day, sixty-four viewings, and twenty shares. By Tenthday, my vlog presenting her final testimony had been viewed three thousand times, and shared five hundred and forty. There were also over twelve hundred comments: messages of shock and horror but also of support, as well as those calling me out as a traitor and vividly suggesting methods for my torture and execution. But there were also thoughtful questions, and I answered those as best I could. 

_Tell me about the day of your arrest._

It did not take long. One morning I awoke to quiet; the hum of the turbines absent. An overnight pulsebomb had rendered my outpost helpless. I prepared a simple meal of bread and dried fruit, and went outside to eat. The mist rose over the treetops in jagged tendrils, and the birds sang with exuberant joy. The tabby butted her head against my hand, and chased ungenomed butterflies of bluest blue. Far off across the valley, I could see the line of black fords driving down the track. 

_One final question. Why did you take it upon yourself to become Sonmi's self-appointed evangelist?_

If not me, who? It was I who had received her testimony, and I knew it to be true. 

_And what if no one believes this truth?_

I have no doubt that someone, somewhere, does. 


End file.
